Tales of Anaris: First Blood
by Farseer Alyith
Summary: A tale of Anaris, an Eldar craftworld. It centers around a Warlock and his squad of Guardians as they attempt to prove themselves as Aspect Warriors of a new Aspect unique to Anaris. I'll attempt to stay fluff accurate as well. Rating is a just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Warlock Malhier slowly descended down the steps, his guardians on either side. He could feel the infinity circuit pulsing beneath his feet and it was not happy. It had been screaming for action for days now. Which explained his presence in the domains of the farseer. He had been summoned to answer the calls of his ancestors. He slowly approached the door, gesturing to the guardians that they could leave him now.

"Is the farseer here?" Malhier called into the darkness.

"Yes, child I am present. Enter for we have much to discuss." Malhier looked at the farseer, stunned by the dazzling brightness that appeared like a beacon from the warp, enshrouding the farseer like a cloak. The Farseer's armour was immaculate; it's runes glowing a steady countering red to the swirling brightness around the farseer.

"What do the runes require?"

"You, my brother must retrieve an item that holds priceless value to our craftworld. Beware however for those who hold it will not let it go easily."

"Who holds this device?"

"A Mon-keigh inquisitor and he must not be allowed to discover it's power."

Malhier hesitated, he didn't want to know the answer to this question but, he needed to know," What artifact has he defiled?"

The farseer looked at Malhier his sorrow radiating out causing the nimbus around him to dim to a deep blue," He has found and holds the blade, Anri made by skilled artisans of our craftworld. It was made to remind us of Anaris; the blade which is our namesake."

Malhier walked like a man among the dead from the Farseer's chamber stumbling and face seemingly glued into a permanent expression of awe and terror. He fell down before the leader, who was unofficial for Malheir was the leader, of his guardians, an ex-musician called Veli.

"Are you okay sir?" he asked.

Malhier slowly rose form the floor shaking off his shock," Yes, yes, I am fine. This mission has just surprised me that's all."

"It must have been a great surprise to have startled you like that warlock."

"Not more so then anything else our little motley crew has been asked to do, in our ever running test."

Veli smiled at the though, they were after all a most strange company," It can't be any worse then that time we had to leap from a flying Mon Keigh thunderhawk in primitive jump packs down into a mob of orks. So that we could assist in the extraction of that exarch."

Malhier allowed himself a grin at that one it had all gone according to plan till the Exarch ended up in close combat with that Warboss as the orks called him. "Let us hope this mission has a better success rate."

"Well, we did get the soulstones out of there, that was the task."

"Yes, however we only barely got out and we failed to rescue the Exarch."

"Well, that's just the way it goes some time, so how bad is the mission."

Malhier smiled inside his head, Veli had always been an optimist. "Actually while on the same idea as the others this one could be a bit worse."

"Really? Well what have they got in mind this time?"

"Have you ever heard of Anri, Veli?"

"Yes my lord. It is to be wielded only by the Autarch of the craftworld. Since there hasn't been one in centuries the farseers placed it on the exodite world of Drazhina, to keep it safe while we began our war to reclaim the nearby territory and reforge the greatness of the Eldar."

"It's been stolen", and with that sentence Malheir started back up the winding stair, his steps as methodical as before.

* * *

Inquisitor Replezon walked down the dark halls of his Apocalypse Class Battleship. It had taken many years to acquire then transform it into his perfect vision of a ship. Even now it barley sufficed and no doubt it would be much longer before he was truly happy with it. Still it would do for this mission.

Replezon smiled at the thought of what awaited him in the next room. Behind that solid plasteel door, in the dank darkness of the interior, was his latest "acquisition". An Eldar sword of incredibly old make, and just bubbling with intense psychic energies. He of course had yet to touch it, and had been proved correct in his practicality when the thrall that tried to steal it burned to a crisp in seconds. He smiled at the thought and pushed the door open. He never kept it locked, after all no one could exactly steal it could they?

He was instantly greeted by the sound of the guarding servitors surrounding him with laser aiming devices. "Epsilion code blue", he said giving the disarming signal.

"Inquisitor is that you?" a voice beckoned from the shadows.

"Yes, Magos it is I", he responded as the Tech Priest moved from the shadows, it's body more rust covered machine then man. It, Repelzon had never bothered to find out its name or true gender, moved with the grace of a tow truck towards the sword.

"Good, I was wondering when you would come to see what I had found out", it said it's voice a dry rumbling vox devoid of emotion.

"Well, what is this blade Magos, and spare me the whole evil incarnate and defiled machine spirit junk I'm on a schedule."

The Magus looked slightly ticked, but perhaps that was Repelzon's imagination, it was rather hard to tell after all." This red moon like design here is the symbol of a great hero of the Eldar, a being called Eldanesh. This allowed me to deduce the blade's probable name using the databanks here. This may be Anaris, which translates roughly as dawnlight; it is supposedly the most powerful blade ever made. It was even rumored to have been made to kill a God."

Repelzon allowed himself a second to grin; this would be perfect...

* * *

Malheir walked down the glimmering blue halls of the Craftworld towards the only webway gate with enough space to take his ship to it's first destination. He could still feel the ancestors' voice commanding him, but no longer were their cries full of anger. No, instead they demanded haste. Will they just be quite and leave me to my errand!, Malhier thought angrily, then hurriedly halted that train of thought before it could continue. If anything was wrong with him it was his anger problem. His teachers had always said he was going to end up some Exarch or other consumed with bloodlust. Well, he hadn't quite proved her wrong.... he wasn't an Exarch just the unofficial head of an unofficial Aspect.... which boiled down to an unofficial exarch. Annoyed he popped that thought bubble as well.

He was grateful when they arrived at the hanger bay bringing an end to his tirade of unending turmoil. Sure one did have to improve even while remaining static but, still self doubt led to death and death alone.

Malhier boarded the ship his guardians behind him.

On to Drazhina....

* * *

Malhier listened to the footsteps ringing of the psychoplastic,step,step,step....

Slowly he drew his sword, silently he began to count....

Step

Step

The he lunged forward sword swinging, his opponent failing to react in time, ending up gutted on the floor. Malhier breathed then saw the smile on the face of the "corpse", ducking he swung his right foot out and eviscerated the guardian behind him.

The newly "dead" guardian, a former musician called Durla, frowned at him,"How did you know I was there warlock?"

Malhier grinned back, "Alisni over there was smiling, she thought you could take my head."

Alsini rose," Sorry, I just thought it was great that we were about to vanquish the master, do you forgive me my brother in arms?"

Durla beamed a smile at her,"Of course I do my sister in war."

Alsini just stood there and grinned.

Malhier left the room leaving those two to clean up. This ship called, "Dawnlights Arrival", was rather lovely in its teal hues. It should suffice til they arrived at the maiden world of Druzhina where the sword had been kept.

* * *

It had been days of travel to arrive here, days of boredom and tedium where he had worked his team to the bone, promising them a rest when they arrived.

Malhier now looked down in disgust at the world they had come so far to save.

Druzhina......., why in the world can anything go according to plan?

Really his disgust was at the chaos ships which were currently unloading troops unto the planets surface.

Malhier sighed, might as well assemble the troops. Mentally he changed his schedule.

Get in there, kill as many as possible, get to the shrine, get the evidence and maybe a tracking device, survive.......

Survive was always at the end of his list. No matter where they went everything went to the Warp. Idly he wondered if the Farseer had foreseen this. More then likely not as the denizens of Anaris were always testing his Aspect to see if it was worth making permanent. He sighed and drew his blade already prepared to slaughter.

Blood Runs. Anger Rises. Death Wakes, War Calls Me To His Service......

Malhier ran down the corridors, past the personnel who were moving to battle stations. He watched their stoic movements with a barely contained anger simmering under his skin ready to snap out and bite. The warrior who hated their enemy and allowed himself to feel disgust at their actions would always be the victor. Those who hid behind masks would loose, separated from their soul. He fought behind only one makes, the eternal undying rage of Kaela Mensha Khaine, the bloody handed lord of War himself! That was the only facet of a warrior, the only tool he really needed in combat.

He stopped thinking of philosophy that was for later, for now he must get to the bulkheads and be ready to lead, not just slaughter. So much did he concentrate on just moving he almost went passed the dock that they kept the small vehicle that would take them to combat. It was only Veli's call of, "Warlock Malhier, we are ready for your guidance.", that returned him to the mortal plane.

"Good work Veli. Now, then everyone we will be forced to land due to the fact that we must not allow the foul servants of the Dark Gods to find any entrances to webway. Once again we shall find ourselves alone, as the others must try to save this world from the Thirsting Ones predations. Are there any objections?"

As, he had expected there were non-save their minds swarming forward their rage barely kept under control, such rage reminded him of well him. They were truly his.

He boarded the small ship,"Come then we have prayers to give to our lord, War."

The launch was unmemorable, standard even, which of course was the first clue to Malhier something was going to go wrong, fast. The next was when the craft shook. It was a dead give away when the Spirit Stones inside began to wail. When the craft began to shake, he sighed, he was used to ruined, going well scared him.

What is wrong honourable departed?

Chaos is attempting to shoot us down, we are taking standard emergency procedures

Which are?

Shoot back and land the living, then return home to the ship to be rearmed in a more attack weapon set.

Ahhhhhhhh, may Khaine guide your path

And yours as well, Exarch

Their star began to descend down to the planet, noticed by several, a rabbit a flock of Dragons, and a adolescent Exodite who's eyes soon glazed over.

"These creature are not worth killing!"

"Patience Lord, look the Craftworld has begun to land troops."

The sun glinted off the plate of two marines, one with great spikes all over his body, even to the extent of horns growing from his scalp, great long ones looking for all the world perfectly capable of squiring a helpless man. His armour was a swirl of green and black hypnotic to the eye yet obviously twisted and tainted, his skin a pale pale white. One hand was a crackling fist, the other carried a bolt pistol looking for all the world as if it was grown in.

His companion wore a simple robe over a blue armour which glittered like a rainbow, his helmet meeting in a crown like structure. His only obvious signs of corruption were his icons carved into several places on his armour and the unnatural dread that overcame all who looked upon him.

"Bah, they will not be able to stop us."

"The warp twists.....OH! how it twists in so many ways! My sight is not clear, but runs with our own blood! ...Another sight! Another damned sight of a bloody duel between the Forgotton Ones and the Gods."

"You, think to much sorcerer, Khorne will grant my axe strength, Nurgle the ability to resist wounds, Slaanesh, the speed and undying wish for the Eldar's death, and your own Tzeenetch will make magic slip off my skin like water."

"My most Defiled Lord, can we not find this sword and leave, to better please the Most Wrong and Evil Gods!?!"

"I will not flee from infidels! I will grind this world under my heel, and take the blade as my rightful reward!"

"But Lord..."

"No you shall silence yourself sorcerer! We shall make sure no one but us remember this day, this battle! We will use their bones as toothpicks for years to come! This is our planet, and I shall make it my own, and I will have dominion over it all for all of eternity, such is the will of the Dark Gods!"

"Yes, lord....."

The ship shook more then ceased with a slight upward thrust almost unnoticeable as it landed. Malhier quickly left through the hatch his warriors at his heels, vanishing into the woodland nearby. They had work to do, and the nearby Exodite Camp should be able to present them with the location of the blade's shrine. Their they hoped to be able to pick up the mon-keigh's trail.

* * *

The Guardians slipped into the nearby forest moving swiftly, and as silently s they could manage. They were no scorpions but such was unnecessary, they had been among the first drops, but they were not the only ones. Anaris had come to this world and like it's namesake it's cleansing light would pierce this planet and its foul usurpers through the heart. Malhier waved his squad to close in together more... he had a bad feeling about this wood, something in it was wrong.

He placed his hand against a moss covered trunk. Some of the trees round leaves shook and moss fell from the top. Malekith had a generous amount of distaste for this planet already it's moss covered forests absorbed sounds and made it nigh impossible to hear approaching enemies something he had grown used to in the confines of the ship and craftworld. Soft, you've grown soft and weak Malhier. Soon you'll be nothing but dirt and even teh mon kiehg will be able to beat you., his inner mind resounded with taunts which he shoved aside pointedly refusing to succumb to the excesses

of his mindset. Such was the Eldar's Path and Malhier staunchly believed in the Path. He was no filthy son of the dark nor was he an outsider.

His mind began to resonate within the forest. He nearly signaled the advance when his fears where confirmed. He could feel the slime oozing mentally from every branch. It fell into the ground which lapped it up like a starving canine. He could senses it's silky warmth and he longed to cloak himself in it. He dragged his mind reluctantly away from this source of pleasure and searched out wider. He found the source of the richness soon enough. A marine stood looking down on them from a nearby hill. His enhanced eyes allowed him to pick out even the grit on Malhier's armour.

The marine's armour plates screamed with a thousand faces and a million colours. They seemed to swirl into each other a vomit of screams and ripe rotting blending swirling colour.

Malhier hesitated and mentally overcame the man's defenses. They were nothing of course the man was not trying to hide his thoughts, he took joy in such exposure it would seem as well as drugs and music. And death.

Violence was of course a huge turn on and the gun in his hand was tracing Mahier's men's outlines in the air as the man muttered nonsense to himself. Malhier tried to pull back but found he couldn't.... he was stuck. He struggled in vain as his body filled with the sweet succulent touch of the mans master. A sensuous mental assault battered him and he hastened into retreat yanking his soul from the creatures jaws, leaving chunks dangling in its mouth. He flew with the speed born of fear into the blinding cage of his body wrapping his conscious, coiling it like a rope. Duck!, his psychic scream echoed into all of his soldiers heads forcing it's way in. They complied as the bullets began to stream down.

Malhier began to calm himself and thought better of it. He channeled his anger as he slunk forward. It boiled and crackled in his mind begging to be released, pleading for it's vengeance against the offender and his wretched hedonistic god. He arose behind the man his rune cloak covered in moss and filth, a vengeful forest deity, and screeched a wordless war cry and held up his hand. Fire sprang forward, lightning cackled at the edges and tress in the area caught on fire. In the intense furry, Malhier coldly watched the Marine turn to slag. He began to cackle as the forest combusted. Trees fell down and Malhier felt every fall. his mind filled with the joy of released anger. Every doubt and mistrust he'd had lately, every source of irritation was exorcised as the inferno grew larger.

He kept at it resisting, barley the temptation to shriek with pleasure, as Veli approached cautiously from behind."Honourable Warlock we must be going before your flames consume us all."

Malhier's mind snapped back under the constraints he had released it from. he turned back to Veli and simply nodded. The rest of the permanent squad formed up on them as they ran from the fire. They ran in silence and their minds released not an echo. Malhier brooded on what had happened as they left the bonfire his mind had made behind. Why could he not control himself? Why now when he needed control the most? Silently he said a prayer to Khaine and stepped into the dark of the forest his Guardians close behind.


	2. Chapter 2

"A village stands alone, its defenders spread along their lines. Facing them are five men, there archaic armour tooled with spikes and stars. The righteous sons of Asuryan stand before them; dragon mounted and spears in hand. It will be a slaughter, and then a massacre. All innocents are doomed to die here, and in five other places.

When the last slaughter is complete, the ritual will begin. When that is done this world will ever be part of chaos.

What force can stand before such blackness? Who can crush such vile usurpers of Khaine's might? Anaris rise to his call! Anaris we bring the dawn to this shadow! We will slaughter these infidels. TO BATTLE!", Malhier's call to battle rang out to his fellow Eldar. The forest clearing they emerged from, flames bursting behind them, was a picture from right out of hell. The Marine's, unfazed, continued their culling of the natives. The shuriken of the Guardian's weaponry pinged off their armour leaving deeper and deeper nicks.

Then they were into them, and no longer were they ignored. Malheir's sword claimed one as Durla fell before one of the madmen's bolts. The other Chaos Marines blocked in a smooth motion, practiced for millennia tempered with superhuman grace. It was catastrophic, a battle of attrition that neither side could afford. Three more Guardians, their names flashing through Malheir's name like a silent whisper, _Kara, Enlar, Esh-ty, _the names were repeated on their last track, their final existence. Two more marines fell, Veli's shurikens creating enough dents for Alsini to stab her blade through both of the creatures infernal hearts. Alas she lost a chunk of her shoulder as the marine attempted to take his slayer with him. Malheir, the second kill claimed, his witchblade burning the no doubt miniscule remains of the man's soul. The final duo of blasphemous ones pulled back, perhaps afraid of their own mortality, perhaps calculating a devastating counterstrike, whatever the answer it would remain unknown. A cry of, "We are the spear of Kurnous, nothing escapes our reach!" sounded as jaws like steel clamped unto one marine, wrenching his torso off, dangling internal organs. Four spears slammed into the second almost a second later, three breaking on impact the final burying itself into the autosensing helm causing the body to drop slowly to the ground.

Malheir slowly drew himself out of his fencer's stance, his sword held loosely ready to be pulled back up at a moment's hesitation as an eldar with a headdress of feathers centered around a glimmering yellow stone rode up on a hissy scaled creature, a dragon. Anaris had fought its share of wars with Exodite clans as it sought to bring enlightenment to them. Druzhina, was already a protectorate and this clan was well on its way to enlightenment, but still you never knew whom the locals would blame for catastrophe. The Exodite looked pointedly down at the warlock, his face betraying no emotion other then the radiance of sorrow his soul gave, hinting at a caring leader who could feel his world dying as war raged around them. "Tell me, warlock, shall we expect many more attacks this day?"

Malheir lifted his face to stare into the chieftain's eyes, projecting his own sadness past the angered mask of the Warlock, "You should expect more attacks, and more deaths until Anaris can reclaim this world. That is the way of this cruel galaxy we find ourselves in now."

The Exodite gave the slightest of nods, "So it has been, since the ancestors of the darkest black came to be, so it has been since my forefather's came here. Since the Fall we have had no peace…"

"… till the Rhana Dhandra we shall expect none. Elder, I have need of information."

"I know what you seek. The sword was nestled in the Grove of Isha, until it's theft that is. Oddly enough that was what heralded these disgusting Mon Keigh's arrival.", the Elder's tone conveyed some blame, a subtle insult to the glory of Anaris.

"I have found, elder that the Mon Keigh, particularly those of the breed we hunt, tend to believe the Great Enemy is a force to be used, not simply a foe to be overcome."

"Then they deserve nothing less than our utter disdain and their ignominious fate. Regardless, I believe it your intention to visit the shrine where the sword was to obtain a phantom of its abductor's trail?"

"That would be the ideal. Whether it is to happen, well that is up to The Laughing One's sense of humour that day, blessed by his name. "

"I had worried about that for you see, the first location our enemy landed was that very Grove. Its beautiful wraithbone trees have no doubt been thoroughly defiled by their loathsome hands. Decades will pass before it is restored to its true sight."

"Thank you kinsman I will take this information to our high command. It will no doubt prove useful in our campaign, and indeed essential to my journey."

"Isha lighten your burdens, for I fear your path to be long yet." The Exodite's aura was still sad, but before that was wisdom, a true glimpse of the future.

"Khaine guide your blades, Asuryan your mind, thank you." Malhier spoke before turning around, the psychic mask around his thoughts tightening at the thought of blood, Khaine's roar running up his spine.

Today, today would be red.

The Tech Magus scooted around once more, gibbering excitedly to itself. Yes this sword had power… he could feel the brass bolts holding his brain in place shiver with the ozone tang around it. Yes, yes it would do.

It calculated the sword's worth on the antique market as well over the value of a sub system, yet the arrogant Eldar had left it to rot on some pathetic primitive world! No wonder such a race was dying out. It had already performed eight circles around the device when its logical brain concluded another fact about the blade. It was emitting a psychic cry that was escaping the not inconsiderable dampers. A whirring sound emanated from rusted eye sockets as the focal lenses of the Magus switched to view the electrical impulses that made up the energy of the warp in the materiel realm. It was very proud of its eyes, designed long ago back when it was still whole, back when it had a name. It knew that old name, and cared not for it. The name no longer suited the creature therefore it no longer had the name. It was simply the Tech Magus. It had other names, but those were given to it, not possessed by it.

It leaned closer, eyes darting over the surface of the blade as weird runes appeared on the sword's surface. The Magus pulled a file through its data server, a private version of its compatriots noospheric interface, a translation device it had sculpted. The runes appeared side by side on his display, as gothic lettering defined each one. Then the letters danced and rearranged, the context defined by the presence and absence, by the way they danced over the surface of the blade.

It smiled as the sentence setteled, the Inquisitor would be pleased…


End file.
